Page 48 of The Dark, Dead, Deep

All my life, I had been used. From the moment that the lake’s screams sounded in my head and the High Throne spoke to me. My uncle had taken the throne because a Cruinn should always sit at the heart of the lake, and I was female and therefore unsuitable.

Being thrown into a dungeon was not new to me. My uncle had done the same if I refused my duties in the tower—though the shackles were a new addition.

It seemed that even after I had been beaten and left for dead, I had traded one cruel master for another. Used repeatedly until nothing was left but a rage that burned so hot that the water around me boiled.

Beyond the rage at Tormalugh, Shay, Cormac, and even Rainn, I felt most angry at myself.

I had been blinded by desperation to reach the Frosted Sands. To finally grasp my magic.

My inattention and selfishness had led to the deaths of so many of my kin.

Could I live with such a heavy burden?

I woke again when I heard the heavy iron door on the other end of the room open with a creak.

My anger had fizzled out and been replaced by a slow-burning regret that made me feel sick. Coupled with the hunger and burnt-out adrenaline, I wasn’t sure if I could hold my head up to address my visitors.

The water rushed through my gills, allowing me to scent my surroundings past the dingy and stale dungeon. It was the four men that had tricked me. The males that had nursed me back to health before erasing my memory and allowing me to lead them to the most vulnerable of my kin.

War was devoid of morals, and I had grown up at war. I understood their actions, even if they made me angry enough to turn the lake red with their blood.

Understanding did not translate to agreement, though.

I was not a soldier. I wasn’t a general or named royal in line for the throne.

“What did youdo?” Rainn’s breathy voice was aghast as the door slammed shut behind the group. “Tor—for the love of Belisama, why is she in chains?”

“She—”

“Chains.” The selkie’s horror gave way to anger.

“Do not allow your sensitivity to chains to cloud the issue,” the arrogant merman, Cormac, interjected. “I’m certain that if Tormalugh shackled her, there was a reason for it.”

“Actually…” I heard the wince in Tormalugh’s voice, though my chin rested against my collarbone.

“I can hear all of you, you massive piles ofCoin-Sithshit,” I spat, unable to raise my head. “For feck sake.”

Someone chuckled. The rattling beads and husky voice must have been Shay.

Someone stepped forward, drawing my attention as they brushed their fingers against my wrist, just below the iron. I glanced up. It was Rainn.

His wide sky-blue eyes were clouded with pain as he studied me hanging from the wall. He turned back to the others. “We need to free her. We can’t take her to Tarsainn in shackles. It’ll ruin everything.”

My eyes narrowed, but dizziness made my body sag again. “I’m not going anywhere with you all. Leave me here to rot. You can put me on that kelpie’s back when I’m fecking dead.”

“Perhaps we should gag her,” Cormac suggested dryly.

Instead of making empty threats, I thought about bashing him over the head with a rock.

It made me feel better. Just a smidgeon.

“What about another memory charm?” Rainn glanced back at me.

I growled.

Tormalugh sighed. “Her magic is incompatible with them. I wouldn’t want to risk it. Besides, we need her cognizant of the rest of the plan. There isn’t much point if she’s enchanted, even if such a thing were possible. Lady Bloodtide would know immediately.”

“Plan?” I tugged at my chains. “What plan?”

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